


Right Off the Bat

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Rated T for silly boys and their bad language)<br/>Dave and John had been best friends for five years now, and after working hard and collecting money, Dave flew himself over to Washington to finally meet his best friend in person! He nearly forgot that John had an older sister... if only John warned him about how perfect she was. Too bad this vacation is only two weeks long. Because damn, did he fall for her hard and fast right off the bat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holy Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is just going to be a little domestic fan fiction for Dave and Jane, one of my favorite pairings! Apologies in advance for those of you who don't agree with some of my headcanons. I guess that's it - enjoy!

Holy hell. 

Dave finally managed to save up over thousands of dollars over the course of the year from busting his ass at a job he got last June. He busted his ass every single day at the restaurant, since he somehow managed to work at one of the really fancy-ass, sophisticated places in Austin. There were quite a few, but he (and by “he”, he really meant his older brother) had connections to one of the best. The wages were generous, but the work was awfully boring. All these upscale people came in that didn’t know jack, shit, or squat about culture or anything that mattered had superficial conversations about their businesses, dresses, money, and other nonsense that Dave lost track of. These people were nothing but dry toast that came fresh out of a porcelain toaster, with no jam or honey or salmon or anything. Just dry and plain and, if he wanted to get graphic, unbelievably crusty. Nonetheless, Dave was an excellent waiter and did his best to pretend that he enjoyed their company. He even went as far as to add a dash of his spicy humor to the bland salad that was the restaurant and its workers. Even though he couldn’t have any graduation parties because the damn place called him in, even just the day after he graduated high school. He was so glad he could get a break from there. Honestly, fuck that place. 

Throughout the year of working there, Dave saved up all the money for a trip he was planning with his best long-distance friend, John. The two had been chatting it up for a good five years now, and he came to know John like a brother. Throughout the course of those years, their original duet of friendship evolved into a quartet with Jade and Rose, and their bond was a barbershop quartet hitting the high notes of soprano nerdery, shenanigans, and overall friendship. Dave adored the crew with all of his heart, and it was prevalent that they all felt the same towards each other. At one time, he had a small infatuation with Jade, but it simply passed over. Especially since Rose (the little shit) did some successful digging in the deep, fertile soil of her background to find the treasure chest that held the information of her and Dave actually being second cousins. Months later, the same was revealed about Jade and John (except they were first cousins), but who was really surprised? The two definitely looked alike, as Dave somewhat resembled Rose. Except he was the better looking one, of course. If the lovely Tyra Banks herself had to pick between the two, she would stare into the eyes of Rose with her usual fierceness and a hint of guilt as she would hold up a perfect photo of Dave’s modeling – he would be the next top model. It was him.

Ah, but as usual, his mind digressed as he waited at the Seattle airport baggage claim, waiting impatiently for his two weeks’ worth of luggage. Dave packed everything and the kitchen sink. Well, he would have for the sake of keeping his shitty humor up, but Bro insisted that the sink stay at the house for shenanigans of his own. Curse you, Dirk. He checked his smartphone various times to check for any texts from John, or hopefully, any of his friends, but his phone was devoid of messages. What a fucking buzzkill. Behind his sunglasses, Dave’s eyes averted to the electronic doors where a little family stood. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he couldn’t allow himself to react. Not yet. In the doorway was the beanpole donned with square glasses and a pretty average outfit. His t-shirt read “I Hate Ghostbusters.” Heh, Dave felt a smile tug on his face. His ironic humor was spreading across the nation. The young man made eye contact with Dave and nearly stumbled over his own feet while running to meet him. 

“Dave!” John called out, before finally being close enough to hug him. Ah yes, the bro hug. An ultimate sign of sentiment between two grown ass teenagers. Despite being eighteen, Dave was certain that his mind was still in the twelve-year-old state. But no matter, this moment needed to be special. It was the first meeting between he and John in person. Damn, this kid was thin. Puberty must have stretched the kid out. 

“John,” he greeted before pulling away with a genuine smile. John looked Dave over with a studious expression before snickering. 

“You look like a fucking linebacker,” John commented, giving Dave’s shoulder a small punch. Dave shrugged nonchalantly, although flattered that John pointed out that he was nothing short of the purest and manliest essence of manliness. 

“I’m from Texas, what the hell did you expect. And I’m not that bulky. I just got thicker genes, thicker roots. I am a strong-ass tree in the Amazonian forest; unbreakable and impenetrable to the elements. Powerful, dominant, large – I am the motherfucking king tree, ornamented with the greatest and most colorful leaves in the goddamn forest. And you, John, are an insignificant and delicate stick on the forest floor, always easy to break, always susceptible to the slightest breeze, and will forever live in the shadow of my overpowering greatness, size, and presence.”

John eyed Dave with a completely weirded out expression. “You really don’t hold back, do you?” 

“No sir.”

“John, is this your friend Dave? Is this the famous Dave Strider I always hear you yakking about around the house?” a smaller, far more feminine voice asked. Dave’s ears tuned in to the fine vocals and sounds. Always being a musically inclined person, his ears were weak at the sound of anything pleasant. And this – whoever it was – honed the sweetest sounds that the planet could offer, let alone Seattle. John looked back at the two other Egberts approaching the friends. Dave had seen John’s dad before; his nose game was on point as usual. But… the girl with him. Who in the hell was that? She did resemble John a bit, so Dave assumed this must have been Jane, the sweet-but-just-as-pranksty older sister of John. In the brilliant words of humanity’s queen, Beyoncé: goddamn, goddamn, goddamn. His eyes studied her, luckily for Dave, their gaze was concealed by his sunglasses. Hah, she wouldn’t notice a damn thing. Lucky him. 

Jane was far shorter than John, couldn’t be anything above five three. And that thick, black hair sported a retro ‘do that probably hasn’t been seen anywhere since 1964. Speaking of thick, Dave eye’s unashamedly surveyed the rest of her body. More curves than any highway he’s ever driven on, that’s for sure. But if her body was a highway, he damn well knew he’d take a sweet ride on those hills, curves, and detours for the days. John snapped fingers in front of Dave’s face, and he blinked back into the corporeal world. Right, John. Haha, Dave almost forgot about John. 

“Dave, this is my older sister Jane,” he introduced while resting his arm on the top of her head as an armrest. Her perfect, soft face bore a snarl, and she nudged John away. It was comical how much taller he and John were than Jane. Poor thing must be mistaken as the younger sibling all the time. 

“How do you do, miss,” Dave said, taking her hand and bending down to kiss it. He briefly made eye contact with her and noticed a small, pink tint on her softened expression. Oh god, those eyes. Those blue eyes could not have been real. No way. Dave snapped back up, trying to keep his composure. John swatted at Dave’s hand.

“Ew! Dave, don’t do that. That’s my sister.” 

“Unlike you, John, I was raised to be the most gentlemanliest gentleman in the whole damn United States. And from a message by the great Barack Obama himself, I have been under protocol to treat ladies as serious business. Shit so serious like the Black Death man, but somebody has got to tend to the hand-kissing needs of the ladies. It’s a dying business, but I am monopolizing that shit harder than Rockefeller, Morgan, and Carnegie combined. I am reviving the business with the kiss of life – literally. And some young ladies are in need of my federal services, I have been told. Especially the pretty ones that have to live with a jackoff that has a crush on Nicolas Cage.”

With that, John practically started wrestling Dave to the ground in the middle of the baggage claim, but it was all good-hearted in the end as they became a pile of snorts and laughter, eventually calling out a truce. Dave’s eyes glanced up at Jane from the floor, and she smiled at him. No. That’s not fair. Dimples like those had to be illegal. Beautiful lips like those should be outlawed. Dave groaned, receiving help from John to stand back up. Dave instantly knew that he would be a goner for the entirety of this trip, and possibly the rest of his life. So… yeah. Back to the initial thought.

Holy hell. 

The drive to John’s house was relatively short. Living in the suburbs must be nice, Dave assumed, but probably got pretty boring pretty damn quickly. At least John wasn’t Jade, who lived on a nearly uninhibited island. Not a single person around. Still, looking at it from a neutral perspective, there were benefits and… not-benefits. People in general sucked, sure. People are the root of all evil. But... people can also be the root of all fun. For the most part.

Sitting in the back of the sedan with John, he listened to John’s rambling about all the stuff he wanted to do intently. However, Dave did steal a few glances at Jane. She was worth every eye aversion he made. Not once did she ever look unattractive. Again, this wasn’t fair. People like Jane just weren’t fair. “Oh, are you an outdoorsy person, Dave? I know a good hiking trail a few miles north of our neighborhood and its sooooo cooool. I mean, I’m not that into going outside and stuff, but the walk is beautiful, and the trees are just awesome man. You can take some good photographs while we’re there too! I mean, it’s a little conceited of me, but I always take good selfies in there. Impeccable background stuff for pictures if you ask me,” John rambled, going through his phone. Jane turned back and grinned at John. 

“Hey, can I come too? I’m off work this week!” 

“Sounds good to me,” Dave chimed perhaps a little too quickly. John groaned, massively annoyed by both his sister and Dave.

“She is not coming with us, Dave,” John whispered urgently. Jane attempted to hit John with her hand, waving it wildly in hopes of getting his knee. Dave let out a small chuckle at the sibling scene. 

“I think she oughta, you know. I mean, look at her. She really wants to come with us. She took days off her work for you, John.” 

“No she didn’t – “ 

“She did this for you!” 

“Dave – “ 

“You!” 

“Fine!”

John raised his arms up defensively, giving up. Dave nodded triumphantly, stealing another look at Jane. She giggled in a voice that sounded as wonderful as the jingliest of bells. He was certain his face was warming up at the sound. Jane then winked at him, giving a thumbs-up. Whoop. There it is. Not only was she the digger of his grave, but she single-handedly kicked him in and started burying him alive, as he suffocated in the death of his remaining dignity. Dave exhaled. Shit. This vacation was meant for hanging out with John, and only that, but Dave was greedy. Dave was a gambler. And he was going to insert cash in the slot machine named Jane, and boy was he hoping for at least a row of cherries. He’d take anything Jane would offer. Even if it’s just a little bit of her company or some shit like that.. He didn’t care. If he was lucky, he’d pull the lever and get a whole row of sevens. Now that would really be something, eh? He always was quite lucky when it came to slots. 

The car finally pulled into a cookie-cutter neighborhood straight out of the 1950’s. What the hell? All these houses looked the same. Dave lowered his shades to get a better look at the houses, his mouth gaping. How could these people tell the difference between the houses? No personal flair, with the exception of white fencing and gardens in the front lawns, but even then, they all looked the same. These people don’t love themselves! Dave turned back to John, his glasses still lowered. 

“You live in fucking Levittown?” he whispered to John. His friend faced him and shrugged.

“Home is home,” he answered before gasping at Dave. “Dave! Your eyes! They really are red?!” he asked in surprise. Dave could tell with his peripheral vision that Jane was looking back to take a look. Dave exhaled, used to the hackneyed question.

“No John, they are not red. My eyes are actually made of a chemical component called yestheyrefuckingredicide. This component is the same ingredient they use in mood rings, so my eyes change color according to the amount of endorphins being released from my brain. Come on, John, get your shit together. The answer was right in front of you.” 

John’s glare was colder than absolute zero. It made Dave want to laugh, actually.

“So what does red mean?” Jane asked with a hint of piqued interest in her voice underneath layers of sarcasm. Dave smirked at her, feeling up to the challenge. 

“Means I’m in love,” he answered, nodding confidently. Jane made a slight “ah” sound as she nodded, still acting as if she was interested. Still, she looked amused and somewhat entertained. Dave liked that. As long as he could entertain her.

“And with who are you in love with?” Jane asked, stifling laughter. Dave could catch it from the wiggling of the corner of her lip. Her dimple was visible every few nanoseconds of her holding back a little chuckle. Dave leaned forward against the driver’s seat and stroked Mr. Egbert’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but… I’m in love with your father.”

“Don’t touch me, sonny.”

“Okay,” Dave quickly shrank back to his seat, extremely embarrassed. John and Jane erupted with laughter, and that’s what mattered. John’s laugh was kind of dorky, but pretty average for the most part. Just like what he was used to hearing on skype or livestream when they would livestream shitty movies. John always picked, except for the one time he finally allowed Dave to pick. Dave, being an ironic and insufferable prick, picked the Bee Movie. That was a year and a half ago, but ever since, there was a rule that Dave could never pick movies again. Anyway, his mind digressed. Right. Jane’s laugh, oh man. He’d attend a concert for that shit. Get front row tickets to hear her perform it, then get a VIP pass to go backstage, congratulate her for a pants-shittingly good performance before giving her a bouquet of flowers. Or maybe a bouquet of those fruits that were cut into shapes of flowers? That seemed even better. It was sweeter. It suited her giggles and snorts. He even chuckled behind his face’s curtain of red tint.

The car parked on the driveway to one of the houses, and it was as suburban as possible. Obviously a two-story house, windows in the front, nice red door, average mailbox. Not to mention the tree in the front complete with a fucking tire swing. He was going to swing on that so hard.

“No, you are not going to ride the tire swing,” John said before getting out. Dave groaned exasperatedly as he pressed his face against the car door window. “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. Jane laughed again.

“It’s okay, I can’t ride it either,” she whispered before exiting the car. The extra comment for consolation made Dave feel a little better.

“It’s no mansion, and the neighborhood isn’t that exciting, but it’s home,” John said as he attempted to lift one of Dave’s bags. It was comical to see John try. He probably never worked hard a day in his entire, suburban life. Dave took the luggage with ease, nodding at John.

“Thanks. I guess we best get situated, then.”

Unpacking was actually pretty easy, as both John and Jane were good at staying organized and putting everything in place. It was surprisingly refreshing to be in a room with such little clutter and wires coiling everywhere. Although Dave desperately wanted to bring the turntables, Bro insisted they stay at home since they would be cargo too precious for any airline to take care of. The asshole was probably making beats without him. Curse you, Dirk.

“John, you got a stereo anywhere?” he asked his friend while running fingers through his hair. Some parts were crunchy from the gel, but he ignored it. He liked crunching his hair. 

“Yeah, it’s on my desk,” John pointed to the desk where his computer was.

Dave saw the ipod dock, and it was a pretty good size, but… that was not a real stereo. He wanted to blast some music. Make the house shake. Tear it open from the ground – that’s a housequake. Ah, now wasn’t the time for Kanye West references, now was a time for whining. 

“The hell kind of stereo is that?” Dave spat, gesturing at it. 

“It’s my best one,” John answered in defense.

“Bullshit. Come on, tell me you got a better stereo,” he insisted, laughing bitterly. John’s brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the biggest stereo my dad would let me get.” 

“John, we can’t pump juicy beats out of this crap. I’m talkin’ about perfectly ripened oranges right now, and you throw a freakin’ pack dried mangos at my face. This thing got no juice. We will never have our musical thirst quenched. Because this,” Dave pointed at it, “This is a white-people stereo!” 

“Dave, you can be such a fuckhead!” 

Dave’s face turned into a frown, “You cut me real deep, John. You cut me real deep just now.” 

Well, if John’s stereo was a piece of shit, then it was just a straight up P.O.S. Not much he could really do about it. John stormed over, visibly annoyed, and lightly shoved Dave away from the iPod dock. Dave stumbled away, being a melodramatic brat. John just played some mellow alternative music, if Dave had to guess, he’d say Coldplay. Without skipping a beat, Jane swung the door open, giving a cheery smile. Of course, that received Dave’s full attention, but he didn’t want to be creepy about it. He turned to her just seconds later as if he barely noticed her. Brilliant.

“Hey fellas, I made some fresh cookies and goodies if you’re hungry!” she announced, wiggling her own little dance in the doorway. What the hell. That was so cute. Dave looked away quickly, afraid she’d notice him staring. John groaned in annoyance.

“Oh my god, you bake literally every daaaaay,” he complained. “Can’t you cook something else, like Italian or something? You know, like the fusilli we see on those Olive Garden commercials?” 

“Maybe if you actually learned to cook for yourself, the kitchen wouldn’t be chock-full of pastries all the time! Seriously John, you can be such a party pooper.”

“Boo, John suuuucks,” Dave piped in with a very small smirk. John threw some pens off of his desk at Dave.

“Don’t give me that, you don’t live with them. Dad and Jane are machines in the kitchen. They output more products than the entire Betty Crocker Corporation itself,” he whined. Dave tsked John before inhaling through his teeth and standing by Jane at the doorway.

“Well, that’s all good, Bitchmeister 3000, I’m gonna take a nice tour around your stocked kitchen with Miss Jane. You can stay in here and continue to rot in the lifeless, inspirited carcass you call a body. C’mon Jane, show me where the party’s at. Let’s stuff our faces with junk and reclaim ourselves as piñatas. It’ll be an existential experience unlike any other.”

“Aw, shoot! Now that sounds like fun! John, don’t be a whiny baby, come be piñatas with us, please?” John glared at the both of them. Now Dave really wanted to laugh. Eventually, John rolled his eyes and made an exasperated sigh before leading the two out of his room. Dave waggled his brows at Jane. 

“We’ve weakened him. The world is ours for the taking. All of nature’s creation is our litterbox,” he whispered. Jane laughed endearingly, giving him a playful nudge.

“Let’s keep that between us. Nobody can possibly know about this. You’ll blow our cover,” she whispered to Dave with a mischievous grin. Elated she contributed to his silliness, Dave caught himself smiling back at her. 

Jane walked ahead to catch up to John, while Dave prodded behind to examine the decorations of the home. Family pictures were everywhere. Their abundance was almost as plentiful as the Smuppets Dirk left lying around the apartment. He cringed. Right, don’t think about that. Those things are awful – appreciating them from even an ironic perspective was impossible. Dave stopped in front of John’s senior picture and laughed. Obviously, John looked great, the lighting was on point, clothes unnaturally nice for his usual tastes, and it looked like he was sitting by a lake. Psh, wow. He’s such a typical white kid. Dave took a selfie with John’s senior pic in the background, and sent it to both Jade and Rose. They were totally going to get a kick out of how typical John is. Dave took another step before pausing; now finding another senior picture. Jane’s. Checking to see if any of the Egbert/Crockers were around, Dave took another step closer to carefully scrutinize the photograph. This picture was gorgeous in every meaning of the word. Where was she modeling? Was that… a bakery? He smiled, his gaze then moving to her face. Vibrant, rosy, jolly – it looked like she was laughing. Dave practically felt his pursed lips melt into a dopey smile. He was positive he had to ask her to model for him. Luckily, he brought his good camera. From the kitchen, Dave could hear John’s impatience.

“Dave! You lag, hurry up!” John’s voice urged from downstairs. Cursing under his breath, Dave rushed down the stairs, acting aloof as always. In only a matter of nanoseconds, his nose caught a whiff of the nectarously sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen. Oh my god. Ohoho my god. His curiosity, alongside obligations, made him step into the kitchen, where he found a bustling, excited Jane and a disgruntled, pouting John. Teasingly, Dave rustled John’s hair. Around the entire vicinity were cases filled with cakes, pies, cookies, and… damn, cannoli too. The kitchen was a bakery all in itself. The pastel-colored wall alongside lightly colored supplies definitely gave it an aesthetic kind of vibe. Or a bakery vibe. Either way, Dave fell in love with the kitchen. He strolled around, checking out all of Jane and Mr. Egbert’s work on display. A certain pie caught his eye.

“Miss Jane, would you mind elaborating to me the contents of this exhibit in particular? Out of all these displays in this fine museum of baking history, this one appears to have quite a bit of a special kick. You know, like how in Night in the Museum where the Teddy Roosevelt exhibit held a special place in Ben Stiller’s heart? Same shit. This pie is my Robin Williams. I gotta know; what kind of pie is this?”

Intrigued by his question and his technique of delivery, Jane walked over to the pie Dave was eyeing. She looked a little closer, and lifted the glass case before sniffing it. “Ah,” she breathed out. “It’s apple!” 

“Jesus fucking Christ. I just got a boner,” Dave said before searching the kitchen for plates. John was fishing around in the fridge and freezer, grabbing ice cream and whipped cream for Dave. What a good sport. Quickly returning to the pie once his plate was set, he handed his plate to Jane. “My body is ready for an oralgasm unlike any other. I’ve traveled internationally to experience this, and finally, my sole purpose in life is within my grasp. I am seconds away from pleasuring my unsatisfied taste buds… and my under active flesh in between my loins,” he added at the end with a lowered voice. Jane turned a little pink, but appeared to just dismissed what he said as just more nonsense. John whacked Dave’s head with a wooden spoon. 

“What the great blue fuck, John?!” Dave cursed, holding his head. John threateningly held that spoon out at him.

“Don’t use phallic metaphors around my sister! That’s so gross, and – and look. You embarrassed her. Nice going.”

Jane handed Dave his slice of pie after decorating it in the works of whipped cream and ice cream, then patted John’s face. “John please, I’ve heard much worse. It’s okay. He’s just being a goofball. Anyway, I’m going to head out now. Dad and I need to head back to Crockercorp HQ for some publicity hoo-hah. Take care of your friend, alright? If I come back and I see a single thing touched in my room, I will personally make sure you’re the next main ingredient in my work,” she threatened him, her pointed finger in his face. John laughed and rolled his eyes. Staying out of their small altercation, Dave sheepishly started on his pie. His eyes widened at the initial taste. Holy crap. This wasn’t pie, this was the flesh of Jesus Christ.

Before Jane walked out, Dave put his hand on the top of her head. “Hold it, Shorty,” he requested. Jane turned to him, looking slightly exasperated. Dave’s expression remained firm. He held up the pie to her face. Jane almost seemed concerned. Yeah, as if her perfect little hands would make anything less than perfect.

“Something wrong with your pie, dear?” Fuck, pet names? How cute was she? This is just fucking ridiculous. She needed to be stopped.

“The only thing fucking wrong with this pie is that it is not deemed the culinary masterpiece of 2014. How in the hell did you make this? Who did you kill and sacrifice to the dark lord Satan or Steven Buscemi for this kind of talent, huh?”

“Paula Deen,” Jane answered with a dryly amused face. After tapping his face with her palm, and kissing John on the cheek, she hurried out. “Bye boys! Have fun!”

“Finally, we got the house to ourselves! Woo!” John cheered pulling out multiple bags of junk food from the pantry. Dave continued eating the pie, raising a brow at John.

“So, how are we gonna tear the place up?” Dave asked, as if his mind was solely focused on hanging out with John. As if. He was going to live in a household with the babest babe to ever babe for two weeks. The thought couldn’t help but make Dave nervous. Was she going to take him seriously, or just brush him off as “John’s best friend” and deem him forbidden territory? Did she even find him attractive? Shit, this romancing deal was tough. A lot more work and strain than the job he had back in Houston. Following John out of the kitchen, he knew he was irreversibly and undeniably in the deepest pile of shit ever created. 

And he’d be stuck in that shit for two weeks.


	2. Okay, Wow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave has an eventful morning.

                Waking up the next morning, or day, or whatever the hell time it was came to be strenuous for Dave. God, he was so sore. What the hell happened last night? Right. Just Dance battles for the days, then they went out and dicked around on other people’s lawns. He couldn’t believe he let John convince him to act like a twelve year old up until four in the morning. Dave actually recalled egging houses being _his_ idea, not John’s. Oh man, let’s hope John’s dad didn’t carry any suspicions of them. Dave sat up with a groan, and quickly checked his phone. A few messages from Rose, probably just some snarky horseshit she wanted to share. He’d get back to her later. Nastiness and soreness oozed from his aura; damn, a run sounded nice right about now. Maybe some freshening up would do the trick. Freshen up until he was the human equivalent of someone’s mouth after eating some tic tacs and drinking water cooled by liquid nitrogen. The freshest. Even Based God would weep over the sheer freshness Dave would exude. He stretched his arms up and indolently rolled off the inflatable mattress. The crunch from plastic wrappers almost stung Dave’s ears from their cacophonous, nasty sound and overall unpleasantness. He scanned the room. It was totally trashed with bags that were once filled with air, chips, and more air. With heavy-lidded eyes, Dave took another glance at his phone’s screen. 9:30. Seriously? He couldn’t sleep in just a little more?

            He stood and quietly snuck to use the restroom, stumbling around out of John’s bedroom from a flash of vertigo. Definitely stood up too quickly. Inhaling a bit of air as he stretched up while walking he paused at the sound of – what was that sound? Sounded like… giggling. Attracted to the pleasant sound, Dave turned around. There in the hallway, leaning her shoulder on the wall, holding a little pink mug of coffee, was Jane. Shit, shit, shit on a stick. Shit-kabab. Dave didn’t even have his sunglasses on, or anything on other than a pair of crappy boxers. Trying to maintain composure, Dave faced her as if he wasn’t mentally pissing himself. Unlike him, Jane looked effervescent in the morning. She looked about as fresh as he wanted to be. Just a sweet little bowl of newly picked and washed blueberries and strawberries, she was. Maybe a little bit of whipped cream on top. Shit, was that fur on her robe? Precious. Lazily, Dave waved at Jane.

            “Mornin’,” he drawled, mirroring her by leaning against the wall. Maybe he could use his nudity to his advantage. Girls always liked the shirtless look, right? Not that he was an expert. He was… very far… from that. Jane glanced at him, which Dave assumed was a good sign. Was she checking him out? That’s a very good sign. Jane then snorted a little, taking another drink of her coffee. Dave cocked his head to the side, curious.

            “Good morning you two,” she replied, making a cheeky grin before sipping from her cup. At first, Dave was confused.

            “Wha – two? John’s still asleep. Dude’s sleeping harder than any living thing I’ve ever saw hibernate.”

            “Oh, I wasn’t talking about John. I’m talking about your little visitor,” Jane hinted, gesturing to Dave’s boxers. No. No no no. No to the uh-oh spaghetti-o degree. This was far worse than he could have expected. And her wording. _Little._ The worst possible adjective. Gasping in terror, he looked down and felt warmth grow across his face. At this point, Dave was a bumbling, stammering mess.

            “J-jane! Oh my fuck, god, I’m so sorry. I’m going to, uh, shit,” he stuttered, then gasped again. “Wait, no, I’m not going to shit, I’m just gonna, augh. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

            Jane’s face was only wearing a cheeky little smirk as Dave scurried into the nearest bathroom, hiding his red face. He slammed the door behind him and leaned back on it, hitting himself in the forehead multiple times with the palm of his hand. Damn it. Of course she saw him with morning wood. Why would she see him in any other condition in the morning? Why was it on this particular morning, at this house, with her present, that Dave Jr. decided to wake up? Groaning, Dave slumped to the floor and covered his furiously red face. Minutes passed by where he stayed like that, simply calling himself stupid on the floor.

            It took a bit of time for Dave to completely go through the perfunctory morning routine (most of it spent recovering from embarrassment) before he shuffled out of the bathroom. At least now his breath hinted of minty freshness. Dave prodded back to the mancave, wincing at the scent of feet and nocturnal farts. The overall mess on the floor mildly bothered him and was otherwise distracting him from his thoughts, but hell if he wasn’t too lazy to pick it up. He was on a vacation from cleaning up after helpless, upper-middle class white people, and he’d rather get wrecked by a team of luchadors before abandoning his divine right to take a break from picking up. Instead, Dave snuck to his suitcase and half-assedly studied the contents. All West Coast-themed clothes in honor of visiting the Egbert family, but hardly any of which were suited for any kind of workout. All he had that was suited for exercise were his track shorts, but that was more of a fashion statement than anything. Great. That’s what he had to go with. His “Seattle Hipster Trash” look was going to be completely obstructed by layer upon metaphorical onion layer of odorous sweat. Yeah, that was going to make a huge fashion statement. A statement screaming “I unironically wear these shitty clothes for an actual fucking workout like some tool from a VHS workout tape.” Looking in the full-length mirror, Dave straightened out his high socks. Perfect ensemble with a perfectly hideous Sharknado tank top. Man, was he going to be popular today.

            After donning his head with a head band, Dave turned back to John. He was as immobile as a corpse. A small smirk grew on Dave’s pensive expression. Quickly, Dave grabbed the first marker he could find, and drew one of his awful comic characters on John’s face, among other things across John's arms. Pulling away, Dave admired his work. Perfect. Shit was so perfectly executed from the artistic perspective; it was like Da Vinci with a self-painted guillotine: the perfect artistic execution. He walked out with a bit more bounce in his step, glancing back at the senior photos hung on the wall. Be still, oh beating heart. His legs carried him as fast as they could down the stairs (he painfully resisted sliding down the railing). Dave came to an abrupt stop once his nose caught another aroma wafting from the kitchen, and curiously sauntered over. There were a few voices heard from the room, and a hint of giggling. He smiled. That had to be Jane. But – who else was in there? Upon hearing a man’s voice, Dave felt his heart sink. Oh. Lucky guy. He should have known a looker like her would already have hundreds of men lining up for a chance at bat. And Dave was at the back of the line, warming up the bench along with the others who missed practice and signed up just a tad too late. Nice, Dave. Still, curious to see his appearance, he leaned over to peek into the kitchen just a little more. Huh? It was just her in the kitchen. And a laptop. Oh, now he could recognize the voice: Aziz Ansari. She was watching Parks and Recreation. A total wave of relief washed over Dave. Now was his cue to make up for his unexpected blunder from the morning.

            “Are you coming in, Dave?” she asked before he could move. What. What the hell. Cursing under his breath, he already felt Jane having the total advantage of the conversation. That teasy little pitch in her voice gave way that she knew he was watching her. How could she have known? Jane looked back to the kitchen’s entrance, holding the pan in her hand. A quizzically challenging look pierced at Dave. She was daring him to come closer. Luring him in with her sweet Siren song. No way he could cover his ears now that he already heard the melody. He was caught.

            “Yes ma’am,” was all he replied with before taking a few steps in. Scanning the area, he deduced that she was making waffles. A waffle maker sat plugged in on the counter; had he not noticed, he would have guessed pancakes. He scrutinized Jane, mirroring her stance and raised a brow.

            “The stairs gave it away,” Jane finally informed him after a minute of staring and silent suspicion. "John is very light on his feet, so I never hear him coming down. You, on the other hand, need a few lessons in grace." His eyes widened behind his sunglasses in surprise, unaware she paid so much attention to the activity of the household. Dave folded his arms, remaining stoic.

            “You’re good, detective Egbert. Too good. You make a whole lot more than a damn good cook, too. Consider me a terrorist for trying to breach the Egbert’s first line of defense. Call in the Pentagon; I should be detained and imprisoned for treason.”

            “Crocker,” she corrected him as her focus moved back to the stove and batter. Dave cocked his head to the side out of curiosity. Crocker? What did that mean? Was she speaking in code? Before he could ask anything, Jane continued.

            “Mom had me before she and Dad were married. So I have her maiden name. Also looks good for the Crockercorp Company for the sole female heir to hold the surname. I know it can be confusing to some, John and I having different last names, but don’t worry. We’re brother and sister all the same,” she explained. Dave nodded in understanding, taking a step closer to Jane. The explanation sounded rehearsed and monotonous, definitely not how she usually sounded. Maybe too many people asked before. Or maybe it was the thought of her mother? Dave felt guilty for having nothing to say in return. Instead, he reached his arm just around her (but not quite touching, just demonstrating a basic from Flirting 101) to poke at the batter. She turned to him in a swift 180, and the two found each other to be dangerously close. Despite some background sounds from the laptop and birds outside, all things faded in with the white noise. Now the situation turned in his favor as he loomed over her. But he wasn’t an asshole that would use this advantage to touch her or anything, no sirree. He just licked the batter off his finger, as if her reddened face hadn’t given him a mini heart-attack. She blinked, watching him. Dave nonchalantly hummed and smiled after that small, intimate moment with her, and reached over her shoulder again for another dab. His food moans showed approval as he excitedly (but not sexually) licked his fingers clean. The action itself enough was just enough to mildly suggest, but make it believe it was all her idea. God, the way she squirmed just a tad when he leaned over was impossibly adorable. Jane looked so flustered. Good thing she couldn’t tell his knees were totally trembling. The mere thought of her in this state made him weak.

            “Delicious,” he spoke in a softened tone. Jane nervously let out a laugh, looking down bashfully. She simply shrugged, turning back around to heat up her concoction. He frowned, upset she’d turn away from him so soon.

            “It’s just a homemade recipe! Crocker family secret for generations!” Jane said. Wow, she bounced back quickly. He decided to let the moment drop, and just walked around the kitchen. The tension from the intimacy just before lingered over them like a mist, and there had to be some way he could clear the air again. Maybe some giant-ass metaphorical fan could do the trick. Dave leaned back against the counter, just a few feet away from Jane, and his eyes scanned her while she worked on breakfast. Jane’s form tensed under his eyes, and Dave could sense it. Maybe she was just as nervous around him as he was. Or maybe he was being creepy. Shit, that was probably it. He moved off the counter, then cleared his throat. Slowly, he walked out of the kitchen, not exactly sure why he was going so slowly. Well, he did know, but admitting it was as embarrassing as admitting he once ran an entire forum on Reddit three years ago. That shit is embarrassing. He never even told John about it. As Dave walked, he had the gut feeling that Jane would stop him. Maybe she’d invite him back to join her. Maybe she’d ask what he was doing today. Maybe she’d close up that space between him and her—

            No she wouldn’t, you stupid fuck. You’re just being too hopeful. And you’re rushing shit too. You haven’t known this girl for more than twenty-four hours, and she could be a serial killer or a cereal murderer. Maybe she wakes up in the middle of the night and settles a score with Tony the Tiger from year’s past.

            “Dave.”

            Or not. Just don’t… don’t be an idiot.

            “Hello, this is Dave speaking,” he replied as he turned to face her. She held the plate of completed waffles with careful hands in the center of the kitchen, and had a small smile on her lips. Completely picturesque. Her gentle voice wafted into laughter at his completely stupid response.

            “Join me for breakfast? I can’t eat all of these by myself.”

            “Absolutely not. That’s just goddamn unacceptable. What kind of strapping young man would I be to leave such a lady to eat those waffles alone. She should eat all of them with good company. She oughta have a true and appreciative spectator as she eats all those goddamn waffles.”

            Jane shook her head, and rolled her eyes, “I’ll never know how John found you.”

            “You might not know, but Club Penguin sure does.”

            “You’re lying.”

            “I’m an honest man with nothing to hide.”

            “Well, we sure both learnt that this morning, didn’t we?”

            Dave’s face reddened at the mere mentioning of the morning incident. This girl was right on top of him. Well, not literally, but the visual was... enough of that. Damn though, Jane was quick. Dave prodded back into the kitchen to find Jane sitting at the small kitchen table, and poking at the waffles with a fork. A wide array of condiments was sprawled across the surface. He could feel his mouth salivate in anticipation. Oh god. Never did Bro do anything like this for him. Usually breakfast was restaurant leftovers, leftover pizza, or leftover takeout. John had no idea how lucky he was to have this kind of shit—no, not shit—treasure bestowed to him on the daily. No need for maps with X marking the spot when the one piece was here the entire time. Call Luffy and the gang, Dave located the greatest treasure, the actual fucking One Piece, right there in Maple Grove, Washington. And she was sitting across from him, scrutinizing him through red-rimmed glasses. He suddenly became aware of the imperfections growing across his face. It definitely matched the all the pizza he ate over the years. His broad hands felt awkward holding such dainty silverware, which seemed to be Jane’s special set. She rested her chin in her hands, and kept her gentle smile. Dave would have donned the look as “bedroom eyes” if maybe they were in a bedroom, and if her intentions were to be irresistibly charming. He took a bite of the waffle before making some Campbell’s “Mm-mmm” chicken noodle noises. Jane’s face lit up. It had every fucking right to. The kind of spark in her eye had the power to run Disneyland for weeks without an extra generator. Walt Disney would emerge from his grave and shake her hand personally. The entire country would go into panic as the dead start rising. Dave shook his head, feeling that his stream of thought had drifted out too far into some unfamiliar waters.

            “This is magical,” he complimented, unaware he had been stuffing his face with the food. Jane made a toothy grin, and clasped her hands together in approval. “Hogwarts is going to be on your ass about the use of magic outside of school. Your pretty face is going to be famous for nothing but a moving mug shot on the front page of those wizard-shit newspapers.”

            “Oh, how wonderful! I’ll make sure to write to you from Azkaban. I’ll send pictures of me and Bellatrix hanging out in the prison quad.”

            “Don’t get too chummy, I hear she’s a little off her rocker.”

            “Nobody’s a match for me, ” she retorted quickly.

            “Nice attitude,” Dave said. She shrugged and breathed out a laugh.

            “It's my best advantage. You won't catch me being a Negative Nancy or a Debbie Downer!”

            Dave’s lips formed a smile after he couldn’t help himself any longer. The woman was absolutely too sweet for him to bear. A quick glance was made to her plate, and his brow raised at the untouched waffles. She didn’t like waffles plain, did she?

            “What gives, Jane? Your plate’s full. I’ve been hogging up all this goodness all by myself. What kind of ungentlemanly prick have I been, leaving a lady unattended to? You can go ahead and slap me if you like. But only on the right side of my face—the left side is my good side. I need that.”

            Jane’s eyes were focused on her plate instead of Dave, and he couldn’t help but feel concerned. This picture wasn’t right. Before Dave could make any actual hypothesis on the situation, Jane smiled at him.

            “I already ate. I just, uh, wanted your company,” she said in a soft voice. He sat back in his chair, almost in disbelief that she would have responded that way. Uncomfortable warmth flooded his cheeks, and he stammered out a series of nervous sentence fragments and vowels. If one pieced it all together well enough, it sounded like a remixed, botched-up version of “thank you.”

            “Mmm, smells good,” a third voice mumbled from the kitchen’s entrance. Caught off guard, Dave swiftly moved his attention to a very tired John shuffling to the refrigerator. His hair was absolutely everywhere, and the boxer-slipper combination had its own piece of cliché charm about it. Dave slipped his smartphone out to take a few incognito pictures. Rose would kill to see this.

            “Back from hibernation, Smokey? Decided to take a step out of your cave?” Dave greeted, eating another piece of his waffle.

            “Fuck you,” John mumbled while putting a mug under the coffee maker. Dave couldn’t help but note how much he was starting to look like his dad, especially when making coffee. Maybe Jane looked more like her mom. Dave chuckled under his breath and stood up from the table, stretching his arms up (and adding a few manly grunts in there for the female audience in the room.)

            “Wow, John. Way to greet your friend,” Jane nagged with her hands on her hips. John only groaned as a reply.

            “He drew on my arm. Some weird guys and a predictably large amount of dicks. Seventeen. Seventeen little dongs covering my arm. Like, how necessary was that?”

            “You’re just upset because they’re still bigger than your own,” Dave retorted while patting the top of John’s head. He could see the exhaustion in John’s face. It didn’t suit his usual personality at all.

            “Shut up, please. We have a lot to do today, and I still need to wake up. So…” John eyed Dave’s outfit with an incredulously judgmental look, then stifled a laugh. “You’re not really wearing that.”

            “Yes I am. I am a fearless man. I have looked death right in the face a—“

            “Not now, Dave, I’m too tired,” John complained as he took his completed mug of coffee with him to the kitchen table. Dave rolled his eyes, feeling a tug of offense when John interrupted him. How dare he not want to listen to the holy scripture of Dave Strider? What audacity did this mortal carry? Ew, wait. He was starting to sound like Rose. Disgusting. Shit’s massive ridiculous with how much the Rose Disease was spreading and infecting his veins and some shit. Rose is Venom, and Dave is the Peter Parker in a wimpy-ass Spidey Suit that can’t do a single thing about it.

            “Alright, ‘too tired.’ I’m Dave. Now let’s move past the formalities and shitty ‘Dad’ jokes, and get on with it. What are we doing today? C’mon, lay that shit on me like some fucking layers of blankets. It’s sub-zero and some blanket-laying’s gotta be done before my balls freeze and chap themselves off my body.”

            John eyed Dave through his bed-head, which almost appeared windswept. Although, Dave remembered that’s just how John’s hair always looked. Fresh out of a hurricane with all those loops and swirls going on with his strands. That’s some L’oreal shit. Dave leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, and noted that Jane was taking her leave. He cocked his head to the side.

            “Now, where are you going? Had your fill of testosterone today? Too much manly essence for Miss Crocker to handle?”

            The challenging remark caused Jane to respond with a disapprovingly cringed face. Oh. That wasn’t the response Dave wanted. At all. He couldn’t take it back though, he had to just improvise and pull a Plan B straight from the asshole.

            “I have to go run some… errands,” Jane drawled out, giving Dave an odd look. He decided to press a little further.

            “Errands? Or… ‘errands?’”

            “I’m not exactly sure what you’re implying, but, I have errands to run. So I’ll be seeing you.” Dave eyed her as she briskly exited the kitchen. It was odd how she suddenly became icy to him. Was it because John was in the kitchen? He hoped it was only a façade until the next time they managed to spare quality time for each other. Poor John. Dude is standing in the center of a dance floor while his sister and best friend waltz around him. Of course, John wouldn’t notice. His cranium’s as dense as a fucking brick. Or what if Dave was the one stuck in an illusion? What if Jane was genuinely just not interested in Dave at all? And he’s the one left alone on the dance floor just scratching his wiener like the delusional tool that he is? He scratched his chin. Dave hoped that wasn’t the case. From the corner of his eye, Dave could register that John was giving him a puzzled look. He turned his head to meet John’s gaze.

            “What is it,” he breathed out, exasperated. John’s eyes remained fixated on Dave. After a very tense moment that seemed to have lasted years, John’s face softened into a smile. He shrugged, and finished up his coffee.

            “Ah, it’s nothing. Thought I saw something. Anyway, we’re going into the city today, so I think you oughta take your wallet. Maybe change or something.”

            “What in the ninth layer of hell makes you think I’m changing my masterfully tasteful ensemble?”

            “You’re right. I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

            John drove the two to Seattle, which vaguely reminded Dave of home. Except there were a lot more trees. And hipsters. They covered the place. Shit was a hive of swarming young adults that had pretentious opinions against establishment and a taste for German Death Reggae. At least there weren’t droves of wannabe cowboys bussing around the main hive in their cheap cowboy hats and fake leather boots. God, it’s 2014, and Texas has been famished for a knuckle sandwich from the fashion police for at least seven decades. He analyzed the surroundings carefully while in the car, but John drove so fast it was hard to absorb the minute details. Fine, whatever. Dave was cool with just taking in some broad, impressionistic big picture of Seattle. But something was distracting him from said painting. He wanted to pull up a different canvas and paint something else entirely. Damn, Dave wanted to paint up a nice picture of Jane about now, and the thought of her just couldn’t be drained out of his mind. His hands refused to whip up anything else at the moment. They wanted to trace out the lines and curves of Jane, not of the Seattle streets.

            “Okay, so something is totally bothering you,” John finally spoke with a gentle tone. Dave snapped out of his daze and adjusted the rims of his shades.

            “What? You’re talkin’ some Tom Cruise kind of crazy shit right now.”

            “Dave, I’ve been your bro for five years now. I know when something’s fishy.”

            “Guess what. Ain’t no fish in my boat, lake, river, or ocean. Therefore, there is no actual source of the smell. Of course, there is my cologne that I’m wearing that is essence du trout, if you must know.”

            John pulled the car into a parking space on the street, and turned to Dave incredulously.

            “You’re being deflective again, which means something’s up.”

            “The only thing that is up is the fucking sky.”

            “Okay Gambino, that joke has been dead for maybe twelve hundred years now.”

            Clearly exasperated, John got out of the car and made way for the sidewalk. Dave sat there for a moment and let his reply sink in before following behind John. Was he really being deflective? Understandably, he didn’t really want John to get his hands on the details and thoughts circling Dave’s mind. John was dense as hell, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he have no idea what’s going on in Dave’s head unless bluntly explained to? He exited the car, clearing his throat. John led the way down the sidewalk, seeming to have a destination in mind. Dave had no complaints. The cityscape was completely unknown to him, so hell if he knew where anything was. Let alone anything good. John’s exasperated face slowly softened into a neutral slate, and Dave took the opportunity to turn the tide of the conversation.

            “Have you heard from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum yet?” Dave asked, breathing in Seattle’s air. It even smelled different than home. He could smell the water vapor and mugginess from the greyed city. Kind of a gloomy place to be with this shitty lighting. Stupid clouds.

            “Oh yeah, Jade has been begging for more pictures. Rose… eh, not so much.”

            Dave eyed him incredulously. Little did John know that he’s been the Picture Post Office for Rose. She probably had a whole folder on her computer with candid photographs of John Egbert from this trip so far. He’s been sending seriously sick amounts her way. Still, Dave stayed engaged.

            “You sound disappointed about that.”

            John scoffed, “What? No, please. No. I’m not.”

            “Oh my god,” Dave laughed under his breath, “Just send her pictures, you horse’s ass. You know Rose. She’s never going to ask. Rose likes to keep her thoughts and wants hidden in her weird mind-treasure-chest. Only the gnarliest evil beings in some other shitty plane of existence know what trash she keeps in that mind dumpster.” John laughed, keeping a faraway look in his eyes.

            “You two are so rough on each other. I know for a fact she thinks the world of you, y’know!”

            “Ugh.”

            “And I know you think the same, Dave! You can’t hide it!”

            Dave made melodramatic gagging sounds. John shook his head before turning right on the upcoming block. Dave obediently followed.

            “You like sushi?” John asked Dave nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pockets. Dave shrugged.

            “I don’t know, never really tried it. I always associated it with nerd-ass weeaboos like you and my brother. What, am I supposed stick some chopsticks in some ramen, turn on some Naruto AMVs, and wear a metal-plated headband?”

            “Actually, no. You’re supposed to wear a seifuku too.”

            “Shit, how could I forget?”

            The two continued to bond with light and casual conversation, mostly discussing favorite foods and mocking John’s interest in anime. In the back of Dave’s mind, thoughts of Jane rested. It irked him with how much she lingered in his head. Must have been one serious crush. Hopefully, it would fade away soon. John then pointed at a restaurant across the street. Snapping out of his thoughts, Dave glanced over at the place. He blinked.

            “What’s that place? Looks closed.”

            “That, dearest Dave, is where we’re eating for dinner. Mashiko. That place is soooo bomb, man! I’ve taken some really great pictures there! And – ”

            John’s pocket vibrated, and he furrowed his brows. Dave was almost relieved that it cut him off. John had the indecent habit of mindless rambling about small things, meaning his sentences and subjects often went around in circles like some poorly decorated merry-go-round. At least, it felt that way sometimes. And Dave was strapped in for a monotonous ride on the same horse with a chipped paint job. Same music. Same pace. Same shit. His attention turned back to Earth, where John sounded distressed.

            “No, that’s not right. It couldn’t be. I mean, this has never happened before!” John exclaimed on the phone. Dave was now very curious, and the two stopped walking entirely.

            “She just, like, passed out?! Where is she!? Oh – okay. I’ll be there in ten. And, uh, I got my buddy Dave with me. Make sure to treat him right too, alright?”

            John hung up and turned to Dave with a determined expression. Dave scratched his head, almost feeling uncomfortable.

            “What’s up, John?”

            “It’s Jane. She passed out while doing timesheets at the Crocker HQ. They have her in the Nurse’s Office, so we’re heading that way.”

            Dave’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach upon hearing the news. Realizing the severity of the situation, the headband and sunglasses came off. Both immediately ran back to the car. Dave’s arm nearly tore itself off with how far he extended it to open the door. Jumping into his seat, he anxiously waited for John to start the car. John turned on the ignition, and put the pedal onto the goddamn metal. They were driving maybe twenty over the speed limit, weaving through the city traffic down California Ave. to the best of John’s driving ability. Dave clutched onto the headband in his clammy hands, now submerged in worries. This was all so sudden. What could have happened to her? Did some fuckwad think it would be funny to jump up and scare her? Damn, would Dave wreck that pisslord so hard. Maybe finally use his broad arms for actual, physical use on them. Perhaps get the baseball bat and go Scout style? Or the brass knuckles? Either way, someone was in for a real beating.

            “Jake is at the hospital with her right now,” John said through nearly clenched teeth.

            “Jake?”

            “I’ll explain later, but he’s someone we can trust.”


End file.
